


Tonight, you belong to me

by KayKitten



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom - Susan Kay, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:54:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25048732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayKitten/pseuds/KayKitten
Summary: When Christine is brought down to Erik's home for another fortnight she discovers a whole new side to the man she thought she knew so well. She explores her feelings for the masked man and attempts to make things work.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 14
Kudos: 42





	1. The Deflowering of an Angel

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction has been completed, it is far from perfect but I hope you enjoy reading it!

Christine shuddered as she felt his dead fingers brush the back of her neck. It astounded her how something that appeared so corpse-like was so attentive and unpredictable. His hands petrified her and kept her constantly on the edge of her seat whenever he was near her. It was those hands that she was sure had committed so many sins. Yet, it was those fingers that haunted her dreams and more importantly, her fantasies. If her angel knew of the disgraceful scenarios her intellect had concocted… He would be utterly disgusted. Her maestro swept the golden curls away from her nape so that he had access. The cold from the silver necklace he fastened onto her elicited a second shudder. Though she felt as if she were being chained to him. It was excruciatingly difficult for Christine to focus: he was just putting the necklace on her so she could try it on for size. Well, that was what she was trying (and failing) miserably to do.

“My dear, whatever is the matter?", the thick silence was broken by those six words.  
All this time she had silently been praying that he would not have noticed her discomfort. Alas, God had not granted her prayer. For the angel of music noticed everything no matter how miniscule the detail.  
“Nothing, maestro.”, she answered quickly, almost too quickly.

A low humming noise resounded from that perfect instrument of his, “Is that so? Tonight, you belong to me. For one night you shall be mine, Christine. My Christine…”, he trailed off in thought. The realisation that she was his – even if it was for only a night – seemed to hit the man hard. His laboured breathing and the feeling of his heart thumping was enough for her to deduce that much. Golden curls pressed against the expanse (or lack thereof) of his ribcage and his excitement steadily became more apparent within the moments they spent with him lingering behind her, his erection pressed to her plump rear even through the dozens of layers of satins and silk.

Though this should be alarming to her as an unmarried woman, this was not the first instance of her angel displaying this kind of behaviour. 

Christine had been imprisoned in the Phantom’s world many times. Typically, she was kept with him for two weeks at a time every month. This had been going on for around four months now so it was safe to say that she was completely used to his antics and bizarre mannerisms. It was only last week that he had been adjusting her breath support and posture in one of their impromptu, evening singing lessons and he had lingered for too long. Back then, the feeling of a man’s arousal had frightened her deeply. Having sexual intercourse now would ruin her prospects for any future marriage. A respectable man would only marry a virgin, men did not take kindly to spoiled goods.

Their arrangement for tonight however, was obscure. Christine still recalled the conversation they had held over breakfast that morning. On the side of her plate, an unassuming velvet box had sat waiting for the soprano to discover it. Inside lay the most exquisite necklace Christine had ever seen. Christine – being the modest woman she was – had attempted in vain to deny his gift though his temper and adamant refusal soon put that means to an end.

Again, his lifeless flesh brushed the back of her neck only this time there was nothing platonic to this. He had violated her neck with an unruly kiss. Almost immediately, Christine withdrew and took a step forward, “Erik no-“  
His arms shot out and grabbed her waist to pull her back so their hips were pressed flush against each other. “Erik no? That is not what I heard you moaning last night!” he growled in her ear.  
She felt as her womanhood burst to life and moisten at his words alone,” How-“  
Once again, she was cut off by his honey-coated voice, “These walls are not as thick as you would wish them to be, Christine. I heard you moaning for your angel as you played with yourself. I suppose I never took the angelic Christine Daaé to be a common whore.” His hands hesitantly hovered over her breasts before they finally came into contact with her soft flesh through her clothes. 

She stiffened, while she was not opposed to this (it had of course been her fantasy) she still did not deem sex out of wedlock to be wise. He was not usually this brazen, the confusion welled up inside of her almost bringing her to the point of tears. “Why?” she whimpered as he tore at the back of her dress. He was never like this. The touches exchanged between them both were seldom and always of the platonic nature whether he was adjusting her posture or helping her into the boat on the lake.

“Christine you have no idea how desperate I have been for this… Last night when I heard you and knew that you wanted this as much as I… I had to chain myself to my coffin and imprison myself in the fortress of my solitude lest I come and claim you. However,” he managed to violate her dress further by pulling the bodice of it off his Christine as if he were a child tearing the wrapping paper off a birthday present, “my resolve and patience has withered and decomposed since then. I must have you Christine Daaé.”  
In one fluent movement, her skirts were pooled around her stockinged feet like a sea of expensive material as Erik undressed her. She could not move. Her body adamantly refused to cooperate and so she remained as a statue. In that moment she resembled his mannequin.. That cursed object he had made in her image just how God made man in his divine image. What would God think if he could see her now? She was about to become deflowered by a man who most certainly was not her husband.

God would disapprove. 

Her love and attraction to Erik was complicated to say the least. With all her heart, she desired to love him or she more likely just desired his flesh. His hideous flesh. Erik spun her around and invaded her mouth with his revolting pit of a mouth. Despite the initial repulsion, she succumbed to his will and caved. Her tongue raged war against his in the battle for dominance. Was she not already going to hell for living with an unmarried man without a chaperone to monitor their actions?

The next few moments were a complete and utter frenzy. Just as Erik had torn off her dress, she got to work removing his shirt with her trembling fingers desperately prying the ivory buttons to remove themselves so that more of his decrepit skin could become visible and Erik barely managed to muffle a groan of surprise. His equally as shaky hands pulled her hands away from his clothing and above her gorgeous head. All the while, Christine gazed up at him in awe. She could sense the blood rushing to her cheeks as her chemise was hastily removed and met its fate in the heap of the discarded remains of the dress she had cherished. The memories of Erik taking her up to the surface and purchasing the garment for her, flooded back intensely.

And there she stood. The “pure” and “virginal” Christine Daaé in all her naked glory. Her soft curves and pale skin caused a fire to light up behind the man’s eyes. Her stockings were the only garments remaining, the final boundary he did not dare cross. “Christine… Oh my Christine…. Let your Erik worship you…” he begged. 

His crude use of words made her inwardly cringe. Must he always say such things? In fact, his words were his downfall as they so often were. Her arms flew immediately, and with strategy to cover her indecent form. She opened her mouth to protest when her lips formed a perfect “o”. One of those abominable digits of his had invaded the warmth between her rounded thighs and it slipped between her folds with defiance. 

There was no way to refuse now. They were truly past the point of return. He was as much of a virgin as she and so, he used this opportunity to teach himself. Erik was a fast learner and he would be damned if he refused to use this opportunity to teach himself how to pleasure his Christine. For future reference.

He used the pad of his finger to explore the folds of her sex and upon his brief exploration he came across her entrance. A wicked smirk spread across his face as his fingers dipped inside her moistened flesh. To Christine’s sheer delight, he curled his finger and her hips bucked involuntarily into his hand as she let a moan slide past her rosy lips. He tested the waters by adding a second, longer finger into the mix before instinctively thrusting his fingers in and out while the usually witty woman was at a true loss for words. The only sounds that left her mouth were sounds of unrestrained pleasure, no one would hear her down here. A familiar crescendo built up in the pit of her belly, just as it had last night when she had performed this act with her own fingers. Christine’s hips took on a life of their own as her bucking grew wilder and wilder until finally she met her release. She stilled completely as the sticky liquid trickled down her thigh and coated his dead fingers.

He let out a familiar humming noise, “Mmmm Christine…. How divine you looked as you fucked my fingers.”

Christine avoided his eye contact before mumbling, “Last night I imagined my fingers were yours….”


	2. Chapter Two: Too Many Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine comes to terms with what happened and reflects while an unexpected proposal occurs.

That night Christine locked her door for the first time. While that in itself seemed odd, she had been aware for some time now that she was staying with a murderer, she had always felt safe in the underground house. Not once had he ever (to her knowledge) violated her privacy. Despite the blaringly obvious fact that he was a murderer, she always felt secure with him. He had made it more than crystal clear by now that he loved her. Besides, if he really wanted to kill her then he would have done it by now. Erik was not that cruel. That much she knew already. While he had the visage of a monster, he did not act like one. In fact, that was quite to the contrary. The man she called “angel” was really quite the gentleman.

Well that was until the events of the previous hour. He had violated her. Violated. Yes. She had wanted to find some kind of release from her inescapable arousal. Yes. She had fantasized about his fingers doing... what they had done. But her feelings surrounding the events were utterly confused and it tormented her. It was seemingly impossible to decipher what this meant for their relationship and whether she enjoyed it. Who was she fooling at this point? The sticky fluid between her thighs was evidence that she had enjoyed. Well, her body at least. Part of her knew that she enjoyed it but yet, the rain cloud of shame loomed over her head ominously.

She curled up in bed that night more confused than she had ever been in her entire and miserable life. Inevitably, the tears began to slide down her usually rosy cheeks and a muffled whimper tore itself from her lips. Erik was right, the walls were thin and this was what she was counting on. Christine wanted him to suffer. To feel anguish and agony after what he had done. And Raoul, oh Raoul! What would he say if he knew?

Slut. That's what he would call her. Raoul was sweet, he was her childhood sweetheart for a reason. However, he was just like the rest of his noble breed: cavalier and cut throat. From a young age, he had been instilled with the De Chagny family values. His centuries old name was a badge he wore with pride. The Vitcomte was no longer the little boy who ran into the sea to retrieve her red scarf. Oh no. With age he had grown up into a fine young man. But a man. Like most men, he shared the attitude of using women despite his upbringing leading him to be raised in a household of predominantly women. He may not disrespect women openly in public, but behind closed doors he often joined in when other men of his pedigree began to discuss their latest sexual triumphs. God help the man if his Aunt and sisters ever found out about the way he treated women!

The next morning, she awoke to the sound of bony hands attempting to open the bedroom door. At least, she assumed it was Erik's murderous fingers rattling the doorknob. She was halfway across the room to open it when she realised her current state. Christine was very naked and judging Erik's reaction to her nude last night, going out as bare as she was the day she was born was not a wise idea. Hurriedly, she pulled on a pair of fresh drawers, woollen stockings and her dressing robe. Not wearing undergarments may give him the wrong idea. Interactions with Erik made her feel as if she were constantly stepping on eggshells. One minor fault may lead their relationship to regress by a week's worth of work.

By the time she unlocked the door, Erik was pacing outside with much impatience. Christine could not gauge his feelings, then again she never could tell what the opera ghost was thinking. He was a mysterious man – which was part of the appeal... She violently banished any similar thoughts from her cursed mind.

“Maestro?”, her voice cracked slightly and she feared her façade may also crack. For once, he was not the only one wearing a mask.

Immediately, he fell at her feet and the grovelling began as it so usually did. “Oh Christine! Mon Ange-”

“You are deeply sorry and you apologize. Yes, I get it Erik.” she snapped bitterly, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence. Though his mask hid his facial expressions, she could sense a sudden shift. He rose to his full height and glowered down at her with distaste. When he was kneeling at her feet like a mere boy she never felt alarmed but this... This was different. He was towering above her. Her measly height of 5”4 was easily dwarfed by his 6”5, she vaguely remember him teasing her about her height a few months ago. Even then, he had been somewhat of a flirt.

“Oh? So you have got me all figured out have you?”, his bristled tone and stature made her retreat into her room slightly. The cold of the stone floor sent goose bumps up her legs or perhaps that was also caused by Erik? “HAVE YOU?” he roared. She scrambled back into her room but as she was about to close the door he caught her wrist in a firm hold, “Mmmmm. No.” he hummed lightly. The contrast between his tone made her stomach churn, his temper was as unpredictable as they came.

“Please... I apologize Erik... I do not know what came over me....”, she heard her voice retreat to nothing less than a whisper.

His other hand shot out and forcefully trapped her free wrist, “Good, I hate to see my Christine so disobedient. It displeases Erik very much.” he said almost affectionately has he guided her over to the Louis Phillipe room. The room where the “incident” of last night had occurred. Erik's inconsistent use of the third person was something she was well versed in nowadays.

Christine had found out from Erik's Persian friend that Erik used it mainly when he was upset. While his little outburst of anger was inexcusable, she supposed that so was her snapping at him when he had his heart on his sleeve and he was about to apologize. They had both been in the wrong, her train of thoughts crashed when Erik knelt in front of her and rummaged around in his pockets, his golden eyes glowing in the dimly lit room. It was almost comedic how even when he was on one knee he was still very nearly the same height as her.

Then it hit her. The gorgeous sapphire ring. He did not say a word and nor did he have to, the box he was holding open to her explained it all. For the first time, one of his actions had clear intentions. “Erik – I-I am so sorry but I just cannot... It is improper of me to marry you when I know so little of your background...” the light behind his gorgeous eyes flickered out and his mask moved as his bottom lip wobbled.

Oh God. Here come the tears... Even with all his outbursts, she still felt sorry for the poor man who after all her rejections prior, still longed for her. Perhaps last night had given him enough proof to think that she may agree to such an absurd arrangement. Christine exhaled, she really should not be pitying him but how could she not?! “Erik... Maybe if I knew you better you may win my hand in marriage one day but last night....” her voice wavered between octaves, “Last night was a mistake. To be frank, I regret it entirely. It was inappropriate of me to be so forward and wanton.” she shied away a tad, “Oh God you must think me to be a whore now...”

His eyes flickered back to life with the little hope that she had granted him and his head shook so vigorously she was sure he would vomit, “Christine is not a whore! She is wholesome and pure and Erik loves her! Give Erik a chance Christine, give him a fighting chance and you will not regret it,” he assured her adamantly.

They spent the day together sat at Erik's desk. To Christine's insistence, they must make a list of rules and demand to set some kind of boundaries. She was not a well-learned person in the art of relationships and neither was he but they had to come to compromise if they were going to make any sense out of their messed up companionship.

He had pulled up Christine's armchair to the desk for her comfort while he sat in the practically ancient desk chair. “The furniture in this room once belonged to my poor mother.” he explained while Christine searched for some passable stationery in one of the many drawers.

She gave him a slight head tilt, “Is that why some of your older handkerchiefs are embroidered with “M” on the corner?” Light conversation was not either of their strong suits but it was apt for this oddly domestic moment.

With a solemn nod he agreed, “Yes, my dear. My mother was called Madeline, I did not really get along with her.” his face contorted into a small yet melancholic smile to which Christine knew the subject must be dropped.

“Okay, so my first rule is that you may not come into my room without my permission. Even while I am not present.”

“Alright, but so long as you promise not to cry yourself to sleep. I heard you last night Christine... It broke my heart.” She gazed up at him in awe. Did he have a conscience? For a while now she had suspected that he did not consider how his actions affected other people.

“Do you know why I was crying?” she broke the pregnant silence with her soft voice.

He nodded, “It was because of me.”


	3. Chapter Three: the Wedding Night of the Angel and his Songbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine and Erik go through a rough patch, but will Erik make a change for the best?

The remaining days of Christine's scheduled visit flew by and with every passing day, Erik grew more and more clingy to the point where he even accidentally followed her into her bedroom one night. He had of course been kicked out promptly. His shift in behaviour may be fascinating to some physician – who would leap at the chance to study him - but to Christine, it was an utter nuisance. 

Christine had put on her favourite blue dress and was packing up her things when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. A cold chill resonated throughout the room and she shuddered, similar to how she had when Erik had gifted that exquisite manacle of a necklace to her. It may be beautiful, but to Christine it felt very much like a chain bonding them together for evermore. 

A pair of skeletally thin arms wormed their way around her and she watched in horror. “Erik? Whatever is the matter with you?!” she demanded but he did not seem to acknowledge her. Instead she could feel him press his face into her golden crown of curls.

“Christine...” he hummed, his hands roamed upwards to cup her breasts through the fabric of her gown. 

A yelp escaped her as she flung herself forwards and out of his chilling grasp. “Erik please stop! What has happened to you!?” After visiting him regularly for the past few months, she would like to think that she knew her jailer. Surely, he would not take this any further? That was not the Erik she knew and had grown to care about.

He swayed dangerously, a funny look in his amber eyes that she could not distinguish. Typically, he was so easy to read. His childlike way of conveying emotions meant guessing what feeling he was experiencing was as easy as some unconscious task - like breathing. Her sapphire eyes searched his to find some meaning to what he was doing. Erik took a long step towards her using what little energy he had before finally collapsing at her feet like some rag doll. A singular scream left her lips at the sight of the opera ghost unconscious.

Immediately, her first thought was to check his pulse. Had his heart given up on him? Contrary to popular belief, the phantom had a heart. Oh what a heart he had! If only his actions were governed more by his heart then perhaps he may have become a better man and not the broken shell of one. In one swift movement she knelt beside him and two of her small fingers pressed firmly into his wrist. Her digits were met with a resounding pulse from his wrist and she allowed herself to sigh in relief. Sure, he had done unspeakable things but she could and would not wish death upon him. After all, she owed him her career and livelihood. The next logical step was to put him in his bed. However, she was aware that he lacked one. Instead, he slept in a coffin. Sometimes she wondered if his mind was as cadaverous as his face. This was no easy feat when she was such a miniscule woman in relation to him. Her manoeuvres would not be graceful but they would suffice. As far as she knew, her bed was the only one inside the house so she placed her hands around his torso and heaved him up onto her bed with a grunt.

Erik was a skeletally lean man with a tall and unyielding frame – which was part of his appeal. He was easy on the eyes when he was clothed and masked but otherwise, he was utterly repulsive. Not just his face, but his personality was incredibly impossible to handle all of the time. 

Christine tucked him into bed and ran a hand through his black hair, she could not just leave him now however, Raoul would begin to worry about her whereabouts. He would send the military and mobs down to destroy him. While Christine was not fond of certain sides of his personality, she was not about to just leave him to die or worse... He stirred slightly and reached out for one of her golden curls, “Christine...” he groaned flatly.

“Yes?” she perched on the bed and gazed down at him, what a pitiful sight. She had always dreamt her angel would be much more than a deformed creep but here they were.

“What happened?” his voice was so unnaturally hoarse that it stunned her into silence.

She may be a submissive woman but she was not going to let him get away with the disgusting behaviour he had shown to her, “You attempted to force yourself upon me before preceding to collapse. So I tucked you into bed.” she replied tartly. That had been awfully blunt of her but she refused to put up with him any more.  
“Ah... I am afraid that was the morphine, my dear. It does have a tendency to make me a lot more forward with my advances.”

So that was his poor attempt at an excuse? Well, she was most certainly not impressed.   
“I have never heard such nonsense in my life!” she remarked icily, Erik Looked taken aback by her sudden outburst, “You will apologise to me immediately!” 

Her demand caused him to shift uncomfortably, “I am truly very sorry, my dear. Can I make it up to you?” 

“As a matter of fact you can. You broke the rules of our agreement after all! The simple truth is that I do not feel comfortable with you right now. You have violated my trust, Erik. Therefore, you shall have to earn it back again. I know it is a lot to ask of a man like you but maybe quit the morphine? You are disgustingly intolerable when under the influence. Maybe then I can bring myself to explore the feelings I have towards you.”

His face seemingly lit up at the mention of her having feelings towards him, “Feelings?!” 

“Yes, feelings. On some level I am attracted to you, you have heard me have intimate private moments have you not? You know which name I scream. But for as romantic you are, I cannot see a future with you below the opera house. It is not a place for children. Your temper vexes me Erik. If you got that under control and attempted to live above ground perhaps I would be tempted to be your bride. But otherwise, I cannot see this working out.” Her heart was drumming in her ear as she confessed these feelings to him. Not even herself had been afforded such a sought after luxury as this revelation. 

If only her requests were so easy... “I can try, for you. But the world is not ready to accept Erik's face, they will make your life a living hell!” he burst into tears and pity welled up inside the soprano. Tentatively, she cradled him in her arms and let him sob.

“Shhh, it is all okay Erik. I know it is a lot to ask but I sincerely think that it will do you a world of good.”

The next few months involved Erik renting an apartment to which Christine was a frequent visitor. He took her on regular walks during the evenings and even had a go at ice skating in the winter time, although he fell over more than a dozen times. Meanwhile, Christine had the depressing task of letting Raoul down gently. A few months ago she had a crush on him but the more time she spent with Erik in this domestic bliss they shared, the more she found herself leaning more towards a lifetime of happiness with him. Setting out her cards on the table and her price had done their relationship a world of good. It was inevitable that they occasionally had their quarrels like any couple, however despite the odds, they worked well together. Getting Erik to drop his harmful habits had been painstakingly difficult, but now that he was never under the influence of morphine and he had a somewhat normal life above ground he was a changed man. Those negative personality traits were not as pronounced nowadays, his life in the sun had mellowed him out. Christine did not seek to improve him or nurse him back to health. She had merely listed the do's and do not's and he obeyed because he would stop at anything for her love and affection. He craved it. This in turn helped him learn to cherish his humanity.

Marriage was no longer a question of “if” but of “when”. Christine had found herself agreeing when he got down on one knee as the snow fell to the ground with such grace around them. She was itching for a wedding to happen sooner rather than later. One hot summer's day, she simply snapped.

“Erik, please can we just go to a court house and wed?” it was a bold move from her end but in her mind she deemed it entirely necessary.

He looked up from his newspaper, “Pardon?”

“Erik let's just get married. I am fed up of waiting.” she sighed.

The next thing she knew, she was merrily skipping out of the court house with her newly wedded husband. How odd it felt to call him such a thing. Since that night in which he had made love to her with those long digits, they had not eloped in such a manner. Partly, because Christine desired some semblance of a typical relationship and a wedding night.

“Are you sure you want to-” he had begun to question whether they should become one as man and wife but she cut him off when her lips attacked his with such intensity that his knees shook. That was all it took for his resolve to fall apart and crumble around them. 

His hand wormed its way into her golden hair and pressed her closer to his lips to deepen the kiss. Ruthlessly, her tongue begged to enter his mouth to which he would not yield and instead his tongue wound up exploring the warm expanse of her mouth, tasting the strawberries she had consumed at lunch time. 

Her clothes were the first to fall victim to their combined lust, meticulously Erik unbuttoned her dress letting it pool around her feet while she returned the favour unbuttoning his shirt ravenously. Long fingers untied her corset with some level of skill that caught her off-guard but the joy from having his face nestled between her breasts and kissing them soon replaced the seed of doubt. With greed, he slurped, nipped and kissed her breasts, purposefully ignoring her nipples causing her to whine for him to pay them the attention she desired. “Oh Erik! Please!”

After drawing out that whine from her, he caved and suckled on one of them while pinching the other to make them stand erect for him although that was not difficult with how aroused she was right now. 

So as not to deny him pleasure, her hand plummeted into his trousers and she rubbed his half-erect cock. “Ah- Christine... I cannot last long if you continue!” 

That was the final straw for him, he only had so much control. He lifted her up and carried her over to the bedroom where he placed her down gently onto the mattress. Her legs opened for him as an invitation that he accepted as he settled between her legs and pulled out his erection. Christine feared the pain from losing her virginity but to distract her, he leaned in to kiss her lips. He took care when sliding inside her for the first time.

“Oh fuck Christine! You're so tight!” he groaned, to give her time to adjust he simply remained still with his entire length inside of her. The dull pain from being stretched to accommodate his girth soon left her and was replaced by the natural instinct to buck her hips. She mewled in ecstasy as she moved prompting him to begin thrusting. At first his thrusts were slow and shallow but as the fire of lust took over he began pounding inside of her. The sounds of their flesh pounding together and their gluteal noises of pleasure resonated in the room.

But all good things must come to an end. Both Erik and Christine felt a crescendo build within the pits of their stomachs as they grew closer and closer to orgasm with each thrust.

“Ah! I think I'm gonna-” Erik warned before spilling his seed inside her. The warm throbbing of his cock was pleasurable against her tight cunt but she was definitely not going to cum from this alone.

He removed his spent member and replaced it with his malformed lips, relentlessly he licked and sucked at that pearl of pleasure and he even dared to fuck her with his tongue until she too saw stars and came all over her husband's hideous visage.

The shame from him succumbing to her before she had felt her release was evident upon his face. His misshapen cheeks were stained bright red. He opened his mouth to apologize but she gazed at him with sated eyes, “I love you...” she panted. 

These words were completely alien to his ears, even Christine had never directly used those three fateful words before. The tidal wave of emotion hit him suddenly in the form of tears, “I love you too, my Christine...” he choked. 

He lay on his side and pulled her into his side in his embrace, the two shared an intimate kiss once again but Erik could feel tears pouring from Christine's gorgeous eyes too making it hard to distinguish whose tears were whose as they mingled together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it! Admittedly, I had intended for this to be a one-shot so developing it any further is difficult. Currently, I am trying to plan out another fic so any suggestions would be very welcome. As always, thank you for reading!
> 
> Yours truly,  
>  KayKitten

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings! This is my first proper Phantom of the Opera fanfiction. I am open to any constructive criticism you may have. The smut here may seem out of context but the meanings behind it shall be explained in future chapters.


End file.
